Lyrics:
yea
Best believe yea that it's me
Best believe yea that it's me yeaa
Rack, rack, rack up, them rack racks rack racks
Back back back up
Got the mac mac
time you in the hood and see an O.G
You ask about me, the young boy don't back down
"The rap game is all fucked up now, what we gon' do now?
How we
time you in the hood and see an O.G
You ask about me, the young boy don't back down
"The rap game is all fucked up now, what we gon' do now?
How we
Man I ain't into being friends
I'm into making a profit
You said rap is a religion
I'm a Bantu prophet
You a fever, I'm a cold
Have the whole room
(Verse)
Talk to me mane
Oh I'm the mac,
Oh I'm the mac
We be
Blowing the pack,
Blowing the pack
G be
Loading his mac,
Loading the mac
Life is
Goin too fast,
spaceship, take off and fly
there is no turning back when you arrive
to a whole other world outside
far away from here
blinded by the stars in her
I used to make the beats now I’m
Paid for the hook
Fuck getting
Paid by the book
Ima
Fade you mistook
Look
In the building demolition ima tare it
[Peedi Crakk]
It's not a game I'm from Philly
Go by the name P, Prizzy Mac Milly
Used to with Young Crizzy in the back rolling on twigs
People
the pistol
Warriors come out the play when we whistle
What's that sound? is that them - in the background?
I let the mac clown and shut this whole set down
tenacity
Gave her beats by the pound it's just the Mac in me
Matter fact you crackers FREE MAC actually
100 tracks, and if it ain't for me ima exit (Mia
Big Daddy Kane catch a vibe/
I was raised by the Rap Gods/ raised by the rap gods
I was Raised by the Rap Gods/ raised by the rap gods
Prodigy, Guru,
You know how Mac play, quiet town, tie it down
I supply it now, by the pound
Might front you a Q if you buy a pound
If you didn't try it then, why
that
I'm quick to, tell a hoe her flow is wack
The type to, cop the jersey, throw it back
See I can stunt and tell a chick "Yo let your man hang out"
the barrel, all I do is see food
Then I get back to droppin' gems like how we doin' Bejeweled, nigga
Watch me, I've escaped the botchery
It's sticky
the third grade
Writing rhymes down facts
By eleven smokin doobies on the porch in the back
By twenty two felonies caught two
Ima show ya what it really do
boogie (bitch, I boogie)
Let a nigga trip, I go mad into boogie
All black hoodie, Glock sing like A Boogie (like A Boogie)
Big Mac, boy this bitch
of your browsin' and know you be in your apps
And Twitter and Instagram is really like middle men
And internet soldiers, everybody was carrying Macs
What if
get it
Well hot damn alright
With an ass like that
You can get it tonight
Put your back into it then stir the mac
Stir the mac
Stir the mac
And her ass
Picture me, twenty-three, a bag of sold out shows
I made it out of music, I took all my bro's
And this merchandise is poppin', I sell all my
the county on a PO
The only way to get back on my feet is slang that diggety dope
Hooked up with my partner, my cutty mac
Two days later I'm back
pretty from the back
But localy you a snack globally you a rat
Luckily im a mac and emotionally unattached
Yeah you make that ass move
Im more interested
wield
Look, bitch, I'm movin' the chron grams at
All the women with me
Got Louis Vuitton handbags
Rap samples, pray like a mac handle
This prodigy been
charges
All you niggas retarded
A Spartan built by a Leo, nah
This the testament of niggas' hardships
Kicked into the pit
And still rose to fight regardless
to the cash
We steady making movies
I ain't wanna sell weed no more
Invested our bank into Money Trees Clothes
A brand new Mac
AK G microphone
We steady making
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